


go out like that

by harperuth



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe, Character Study, Galdiator!Arcee, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 02:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18174350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: "She loses a moment, remembering the Gladiator pit masters’ tempers. How she used to try and duck below the bigger fighters, with the rest of the smaller ones...but she was always a little too notorious to be forgotten."A character study ficlet where Arcee was a gladiator on Cybertron before the War.





	go out like that

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stiction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stiction/gifts).



> you know that exercise on cosmos where the existence of earth is a calendar and human existence is the last second of midnight before the new year? that's the relative amount of how much transformers canon i've actually consumed. i apologize.

Arcee is never quite sure how she feels about Earth. It’s not...the worst. The worst pings back and forth between hurtling through space with nowhere to go and Spark only knows behind them...energon dripping from her blades, breathing heavy, all sensors on alert for another ‘Con coming from any side...huddled in the Gladiatorial dorms, crowded under Megatronus’ elbow and glaring at the others…

Yeah, Earth’s not the worst.

\- - -

“...Arcee?”

Earth has Jack, which she has to admit is an upside. She’s always worked better with a partner. Jack, Wheeljack, Meg--. Anyway, Jack is better than most.

“Jack,” She acknowledges, not looking up from the Command structure she’s trying to fix. The whole place is falling down around them just a little bit. She remembers the sense of sick fascination she felt during Rafael’s local history lesson and how carelessly this government poisoned their own population in the interest of gaining a fighting advantage over others that look like them, but were apparently different enough to be enemies. Miko hadn’t sat through that particular lesson.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks, undeterred by her outward disinterest. He’s getting better at reading her, “You’ve been, uh, distant ever since the last ‘Con encounter.”

Arcee has to focus not to overheat the plating she’s welding together. Ratchet would be angry. Not angry, annoyed. Ratchet is rarely ever truly angry, which is something she appreciates. She loses a moment, remembering the Gladiator pit masters’ tempers. How she used to try and duck below the bigger fighters, with the rest of the smaller ones...but she was always a little too notorious to be forgotten. Some of her worst scars weren’t from the pits, weren’t from the War, but lasted from the pit masters and their ideas of training. She shivers, slants a sideways glance at Jack, and manages to muster half a smile, “Old memories.”

Humans have such a different concept of time. Arcee is constantly lost in memories, four, four and a half, million years old. Jack is _sixteen_. She boggles over this. Somehow he manages to show moments of maturity reflecting a ‘Bot several hundred thousand years his age. She won’t ever admit it, but...she loves him.

“Don’t let old memories be new wounds,” Jack glances over his shoulder, betraying his discomfort, “My uh, my mom says that sometimes. You aren’t alone, Arcee.”

“Thank you Jack,” She smiles, genuinely, fully catching his eye for the first time that day, “I’ll do my best.”

\- - -

“You’re certainly making a splash here, aren’t you?”

Arcee doesn’t look up. It’s been a new one every cycle since she arrived at the pit dorm. One scrap after another looking to frag with the new fighter...the one that’s too small and grins with too many dental plates on display...the one that hasn’t lost a practice bout yet.

“I must admit that I’m a fan of the attitude as well. Too many are here for glory, or... _tourism_ , and not because they had no choice.”

Arcee chances a glance up, brow plate raised. It’s just as likely to get her another unsanctioned fight, but in this case the fighter in front of her just chuckles and settles further into the seat across from her. He’s huge. Huge and silver and cold and she _knows_ him, which is unusual enough to startle her into speaking, “Megatronus.”

“Arcee,” He agrees, gaze piercing into hers.

\- - -

Sometimes Arcee thinks about the War. About how close she was to fighting for the wrong side. Frag, she hopes she’s fighting for the right side.

She thinks about the seductive whispers in the dead of night, imagined and real enemies on all sides, about how the Council didn’t care for those truly struggling...they had already abandoned them to the pits down here, turned blind optics to the horror and ferocity that so many found their entertainment in. What could they possibly offer the rest of Cybertron if they had already so betrayed all of them?

She was part of the honor guard that accompanied Megatronus to his speech before the Council.

She knows that’s why Optimus Prime is still somewhat reticent around her even now, on Earth, after four million years of War on his side. It’s hard to move past that first impression of her, scarred and bitter, amongst the deadliest of the Cybertronian fighters alive, fully ready to go to war for and with Megatronus.

To be honest, she doesn’t truly remember Orion Pax. She remembers the whispers of an archivist that Megatronus was fond of, who their leader was maybe more than fond of, but was fully committed to his research and some no-name med student that he had bonded with perhaps too early in life. But beyond that, she has no memories of him. She doesn’t even remember his apparently Spark-changing speech, the moments that he was elevated from lowly archivist to Prime-worthy.

All she remembers from that day was devastation and fury, betrayal from the ones that were meant to _help_ them...to _serve them_.

\- - -

They’re freezing to death. After everything Arcee has been through it’s not how she expected to go. Ratchet’s most dire warnings about energon levels are echoing around her thoughts, as are the last words she remembers that felt like they were Megatronus’, not Megatron’s.

“It is an honor,” Optimus, nee Orion, interrupts her thoughts, her fury, “To be by your side in this time is...truly an honor.”

For a moment Arcee’s fury burns brighter than any star she’s ever encountered. After all this time, all these battles, she’s destined to die by the side of the one who stole the Primeship from _her_ leader? She forces a hard breath cycle. Forces herself to stay in the moment.

“No...nowhere else I’d rather be,” She manages to make the admission sound like a quip, rather than the wrenching confession it is.

\- - -

Arcee has scars. Some that she remembers, some that she doesn’t.

“That’s _so gnarly_ ,” Miko enthuses, referring to the largest scar Arcee displays, a huge cavern across her chest, dedicated to her first public Gladiator fight. The gash had come after the technical fight itself, when the pit master had to put her down publically to ensure that she was still under control. She had just snuffed the sparks of two other fighters twice her size, slicing their delicate wiring and bleeding their energon to the dust of the arena, when the pit master had stepped in.

She remembers glaring in silent defiance as they had taken a fully forged and Spark blessed sabre to her chest, forcing her to her knees as the sliced across her chest, bleeding an almost fatal amount of energon from her.

She had been woozy and leaking lubricant from her optics before they dragged her from the edges of the pits, forced to spend several fights amongst the spare parts she had created of her opponents, before being allowed medical attention. She remembers brief moments of Ratchet, across the tent space, getting in his volunteer hours, as a medical ‘Bot who’s name she could never remember patched her up from the brink of a snuffed Spark.

“Miko!” She hears Jack admonish, but she can’t help but smile just a little. She knows from the silence from the humans that she’s got too many dental plates on display, like she used to in the pits.

She brings her optics down to meet Miko’s eyes, ignoring Bulkhead’s uneasy shifting behind her, “Yeah, it’s pretty gnarly. You should see the other guy.”

\- - -

“We can change this world, Arcee,” Megatronus purrs in her memory, “We, the forgotten, the beaten, the damned...we can _save_ this world, Arcee.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about my one true love soundwave, who i managed to write nothing about here, on tumblr at floralpunkbarton. i may play in this verse yet, bc gladiator!arcee is...So Much


End file.
